


i told my love to wreck it all

by wafflesofdoom



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9372758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesofdoom/pseuds/wafflesofdoom
Summary: maybe he was paranoid because it was just the way he was wired, maybe he was the way he was because of circumstance, maybe life had just fucked him up beyond all repair. maybe he'd always be like this, afraid and paranoid and convinced that his happiness couldn't possibly last.maybe he just didn't get to be happy.or, aaron watches robert sleep and wonders how he's supposed to deal with the voice in his head telling him it couldn't possibly last.





	

It was early when Aaron woke, light streaming in through a crack in their curtains. They hadn’t closed them properly the previous night, and Aaron mentally berated himself for that - he could never sleep when their bedroom was this bright. He was a heavy enough sleeper, sure, but for some reason the early morning light always did his head in.

Shuffling onto his side, Aaron looked at Robert. His fiancé was absolutely dead to the world, one arm shoved underneath his pillow, his face pressed against the cotton as he snored softly. The early morning light looked good on Robert, the soft golden light accentuating Robert’s pale features.

Robert’s blonde hair was fluffy and soft against his forehead, completely wax free. Robert might complain about Aaron’s overuse of hair gel, but he was as bad in his own way - he liked his hair perfectly styled, and well, Aaron liked this Robert, the Robert that looked so much younger than the thirty he was.

Tucking a hand under his head, Aaron continued to watch his fiancé sleep. He didn’t often get a chance to do this, and he couldn’t help but take advantage of the time he had to look at Robert, completely uninterrupted.

Robert was usually the one to wake up first, always on his phone checking something or other by time Aaron woke up. It was nice to be the one awake first, be the one who had the time to watch, and admire.

Aaron sometimes wondered how he ended up with someone as effortlessly gorgeous as Robert was. Sound asleep, Robert was still model material, and Aaron was kind of astounded that he was in _his_ bed.

**Their** bed.

Aaron couldn’t help but reach out and brush his thumb along Robert’s jawline, his touch featherlight. Aaron loved that jawline, the gorgeous structure that made Robert so striking, made him turn heads.

Robert deserved the attention, to be entirely fair. Aaron had to appreciate the looks his fiancé often got when they were out together, if only for a second before the jealous part of his brain took over. 

Maybe he could teach himself to just be happy someone like Robert Sugden chose him, chose to be with him. 

Maybe he could teach himself not to be jealous.

Aaron’s examination of Robert continued, his gaze flickering over Robert’s chest. The duvet was pooled around his stomach, leaving his upper body exposed to Aaron’s view. 

Aaron loved every part of Robert’s body, he really did, but he had such a _thing_ for Robert’s shoulders, his broad torso. He was naturally broad, Robert, because it certainly wasn’t from working out. Robert was a lazy sod at the best of times, though if Aaron ever took the piss out of him for it, he claimed all the sex they had was exercise enough.

The scar on his chest caught Aaron’s eye, and his breath hitched in his throat. He hated seeing that scar, he hated being reminded of how close he’d come to never having this, never having the Robert he had now, the one who was loving, and dedicated to him, **only** him. Aaron couldn’t imagine a world where he and Robert had never gotten their second chance, their new start, he couldn’t imagine where his life would be now if he hadn’t had Robert by his side for the past year.

He hated that stupid scar.

Aaron wondered if this was how Robert felt about his scars, the faint lines that were scattered across his stomach, the angry red scar on his arm that was only beginning to fade. Was this how Robert felt when he looked at Aaron’s scars, did he get that same sick feeling in his stomach, realising how often he’d come to losing Aaron for good?  


He hoped not. Aaron hated to think that those sort of thoughts could cross Robert’s mind every time they were in bed like this, every time he changed in front of him. 

Letting his gaze linger on the scar for a second or two more, Aaron’s eyes continued their journey down Robert’s body, admiring the taut muscle of his stomach, the wide splay of the hand that was resting on Robert’s own stomach.

God, Aaron loved his hands.

Robert had talented hands and clever fingers, and he knew exactly how to use them to take Aaron apart, but it was more than that. Robert’s hands made him feel so safe, kept him anchored to reality on days when he was getting lost in his own head.

Simple things, like a hand on his arm or a soft touch to his lower back always brought Aaron back into the real world, they were touches that were always a comfort to him. And that was before he even got started on how much he loved to hold Robert’s hand.

It was new, really, holding hands. They’d taken a long time to get to a place where it felt normal for them to tangle their fingers together, hold each other tightly, but now they did, Aaron never wanted to stop.

Aaron loved when they would sit, watching telly in the evenings, and Robert’s hand would find his own, slotting their palms together. Their hands fit, Robert’s slightly larger hand always warm, always a comfort.

They’d walked home holding hands on Christmas Day, the first real time they’d done it. Aaron still remembered how it had felt to walk through the village, hand in hand with Robert, his fiancé occasionally squeezing his hand lightly, holding tightly to him as they walked over the worst of the slippery, icy patches.

It had felt right. Like it was the most normal thing in the world to do, walk alongside each other with their fingers tightly intertwined.

God, Aaron **loved** his hands. 

Reaching out again, Aaron brushed his thumb against the front of Robert’s hand, wishing he could just twist their fingers together and hold onto him tightly, wishing he could feel as safe, and comfortable then, as he did when Robert was holding his hand and keeping him where he was supposed to be.

Aaron loved him.

Aaron loved him so much, it scared him. It scared him because Aaron knew he wouldn’t be able to cope if Robert decided he had enough someday, or if something happened to take him away.

Maybe thats why he was so paranoid.

Paranoid that he could lose him someday, lose what they had with each other. 

Maybe he was paranoid for a million other reasons.

Maybe it was just the way he was wired.

Maybe circumstance had done it to him, messed him up beyond repair.

But whatever it was, Aaron knew it couldn’t go on. He’d have to talk to Robert, he’d have to try and explain to his fiancé that none of this was down to him, that it was all Aaron, all in his head. 

It couldn’t possibly be down to Robert. His gorgeous, brilliant Robert, the Robert that had perched the sunglasses Aaron bought him on his nose, and demanded Aaron give him a full fashion show of everything he’d bought that morning once they’d left the noisy pub behind and retreated to the quiet of their bedroom.

It wasn’t down to Robert, the Robert who’d enthusiastically wolf whistled as Aaron had shown him the clothes he’d bought for himself, upgrading his wardrobe slightly, mindful of the fancy hotel and the once in a lifetime trip they had ahead of them.

It couldn’t be down to Robert, the Robert who’d already read a beginners guide to casinos cover to cover, the Robert that had taken one look at the dark navy shirt Aaron had bought and pounced on him, snogging him absolutely senseless, looking at him with the kind of hungry gaze Aaron sometimes couldn’t believe was all down to him.

God, it couldn’t be down to Robert.

Robert had proved himself a thousand times over since they’d gotten back together, giving his all to their relationship.

It was Aaron, it had to be Aaron.

It had to be all down to the jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings in his head, a tangled mess he wasn’t sure how to tackle, how to unwind and untangle and make better, make _normal_.

Aaron wanted to be normal.

He wanted to give Robert the kind of unquestioned trust the blonde gave him so freely every single day. The trust that meant he never once doubted Aaron’s intentions with Manchester, never questioned why Aaron had been so skint that entire weekend, the three hundred quid he’d forked out for a tiny hotel room in Manchester city centre burning a hole in his wallet and putting a knot of anxiety in his stomach for half the weekend.

Aaron didn’t want this, to constantly believe Robert would go looking for better, that he’d eventually wake up and realise he wanted Rebecca, and the flash life she could give him.

The life Aaron could never afford to have. 

Aaron wanted to believe he was enough, wanted to believe that Robert would never feel like this about anyone else.

He just wanted to be normal.

Aaron blinked furiously, feeling tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to let Robert wake up to that, because then he would know, Robert would know something was really wrong, and Aaron didn’t want that.

He wanted the carefree Robert that had shown him article, after article on things to do in Vegas as they’d laid curled around each other the previous night, talking in hushed tones and planning their ten days together in America.

Ten blissful, interrupted days.

Maybe if Aaron just focused on the holiday, he’d be alright. Ten days away from Emmerdale, and everything and everyone that was making him paranoid would fix it all, it had to.

“Mm, it’s early.”

Aaron’s attention was immediately on Robert, the other man waking. Robert blinked a few times, looking at Aaron with sleep heavy eyes. He was so open about how much he loved Aaron, and even more so in moments like this - moments were Robert’s face was nothing but pure, honest love, moments where Aaron couldn’t handle the intensity of his gaze, the sincerity of his love.

“C’mere.” Robert mumbled, eyes already half closed again as he reached out for Aaron, his hands warm against the bare skin of Aaron’s stomach. 

_God, those hands._

Aaron instantly melted into Robert’s touch, letting the older man tug him close, hold him against his body. Aaron wrapped his arms around Robert’s waist, pressing his face against Robert’s shoulder. 

“You okay?”

Robert’s voice was low, gravelly with sleep.

Aaron nodded, pressing his lips against the warm skin of Robert’s collarbone. “Love you.” He mumbled softly, letting his tired eyes shut.

He could feel Robert smile against his forehead as he responded. “Love you too.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best way to deal with it, but if Aaron could just focus on the good, the absolutely brilliant parts of their relationship, the quiet mornings and the whispered ‘I love yous’, maybe he’d be okay, maybe he wouldn’t be paranoid.

Maybe if he ignored it for long enough, it would all just work itself out.

Maybe.

 

**fin**

**Author's Note:**

> there was no real point to this, other than me having a mighty need to get inside aaron's head and understand his thought process on all this a bit better.
> 
> as always, i'm robertsuggles over on tumblr so feel free to come chat about all things emmerdale!


End file.
